Fragile Hope
fragile hope a story by star "they say life can affect you forever what they don't know is that they are all too right" "tell me this isn't real tell me it's going to be all right tell me this lie" one "i think somehow we know everything about you" - swanpaw, the fallen rose She is alone. She is weak and weary. She has no help. And enemies surround her at every turn. "Here! Over here!" Hearing a voice, the pale she-cat stirs. It's cold. And help is so far away. Must get to safety. Must save Magnolia. A gray tom comes into view. He's so handsome. And strong. And his eyes are so fierce. If only he could sweep me off my paws, then everything would be fine. But that's not possible. Even if he wanted to, it's not possible. Wind tugs at his fur, and his paws stand strong on the earth. It's night. Cold, dark, dreary. Blood. So much blood. She has been attacked, and what will this tom do? "Swanpaw, do you know her?" asks the tom. A white she-cat with eyes as red as fire shakes her head. "No, Beestripe." Swanpaw steps forward. "But she seems familiar." How? This she-cat knows nothing about the one on the ground. And the blood, it laps at the fur. The paws. The mind. More. She needs more. She needs more care, more blood, more revenge. And this is her first word after the attack: "Rose . . ." It is weak. But it is all she needs. Her token for survival. Her key to success. This will make all the difference. ~*~ More dreams. Shadows. Figures. What can it all mean? And then, another voice. The same one that woke her afterwards. "Rose, are you all right? Your wound—it's serious." Her vision, though blurry, is able to make out the tom. Headstrong, broad, handsome. Same old, same old. She repeats the same word. "Rose." And she says more. "Get . . . away . . . Here . . . Magnolia." Unable to form coherent thoughts. But able to speak. She must go. They will find her here. And they will show no mercy. "No Rose. You can't leave. The Military will hunt you down. They've already hit several Twolegplaces." Such unfamiliar words. And such strength. General Bullet couldn't have done so much already, couldn't he? Yet she knows it in her heart. He is no ordinary savage. He is a fighter beast, a dog, no less, who has been trained by the humans, to hunt. It is in his nature, and his followers. Except not all. She knows. She's seen it all. She's seen what happened to leave, to betray the Military. But she chose to. For her family. For her friends. And for Magnolia most of all. "I . . . must . . . Magnolia . . . needs . . ." She doesn't have enough strength to finish. The same she-cat, Swanpaw, pokes her head in. "Beestripe. Rose. How is she doing?" Not good. If not for these cats, she would've died. Now she is alive. But if Bay-Bay tracked her down . . . She could hear Magnolia's angry voice. "I thought I told you to stay away from that dog! He's dangerous, and you know it! He's leader of the Military for goodness sake! Remember what they did to Mother? Remember?!" Not then, she didn't. Too young. Too shocked. Times change. The helpless wriggling, the pool of blood, the snapped body and the missing jaw. Too much, too soon. "Swan . . . paw . . . leave . . . he . . . coming . . . track . . ." The white she-cat doesn't seem convinced. "LightningClan can stop him. Bullet doesn't scare us." He should. The way he looked at her when she became Major Strike . . . it was more than a simple congratulations. It was more, much more. "Scare . . . you . . . he . . . me . . ." No way could she tell the full story with her stammering. She needed to though. He will come. And the end will begin. ~*~ Now she can speak. But the end isn't prevented. Not yet. It has been a moon, and Bullet . . . no trace. "He will come," she begs. "And his first target will be me. Relieve me of you. It'll be such a relief, getting rid of a burden." Swanpaw shakes her head. "Rose, you're not a burden. You just need to stay there." "I'm sick. I can't take care of you like you take care of me. I'm throwing up, I . . ." And the truth dawns on her. She's not sick. She's done something much much worse. "Let me leave. Now. Before you turn against me. I have to do this." Beestripe and Swanpaw shake their heads. All around, cats stare at her, wide-eyed, shocked at her plea. Though she wishes not to do it, it is necessary. For her safety. For their safety. And for her family. New and old. The deputy steps forward, her eyes pale and worried. "You can't do this, Rose. Bullet will kill you." "I want that to happen. You wouldn't understand. I know you wouldn't." Tears start to brim at the edges of her eyes. "You barely know me," she whispers. "I'm just a burden." Swanpaw bounds forward, her face telling everyone she is at a lost for words. "Rose . . ." she begins. "I . . . I don't know how. But somehow . . . I think somehow we know everything about you. Somehow. It's not clear yet. But StarClan will tell us. I know it." That means the world to her. She is no burden. She is not yet a friend, not even an acquaintance. But she is an ally, and that is all she needs to be. Hope. A chance to be free. Slim, but a chance. A chance to be free from her shame, her hurt. Something her family has never given her. Only Magnolia has. And look what happened to her. But there is still hope. Fragile, delicate, bare hope. But it's still hope. And that's all she needs. two "your eyes switch from brown to green to blue to purple. they never stop" - beestripe, iridescent Young love is a very interesting thing to watch. But I never have, and never will, experience any form of it. I'm a medicine cat. I can't love. I'm not supposed to. Doesn't mean it pops up in strange places, though. Mother taught me that nobody is special. You shouldn't single out anyone for your attention, she said. And nobody will single me out for their love or attention. I grew up playing with everyone, taking turns. Mother stayed a queen. She volunteered to be head queen, to take care of all the kits. But her rule was strict. I hated it. We all did. Yewkit, Foxkit, Juniperkit. What was it? An iron paw. She ruled with an iron paw. She never loved us, never has. And she never will. There came a time where she forced Lavenderstar to make all the kits in the nursery apprentices. Even the newborns. "They will feel jealous of their littermates," she argued. "And they will have all the more reason to hate them, to grow up with bitterness in their hearts. Lavenderstar, being weak-willed, agreed. The Clan has been in chaos ever since. Because of her. She didn't even let me call her "Mother." I had to call her by her real name: Riverpelt. And Father by his: Vinefur. He used to be Vinesplash, best warrior in town. But Mother made him change it. And I could tell they never loved each other. I hated it. I hated it all. That's why I had to do this. I'm sorry. So, so sorry. It began when she arrived. Ivyleaf's daughter, her only daughter in a litter of sons. Swankit, then Olivekit, Pigeonkit, Blackkit, and Skykit. She was pure white, white so brilliant it reminded me of the stars. I had to play with all of them, and realized their different personalities. Swankit was spunky, but also wise and firm. Olivekit was withdrawn, and never spoke to anyone. Pigeonkit talked back; he was a rebellious tom. As for Blackkit and Skykit, they were normal. Nothing special about them. It was as if Mother had brainwashed them into her mindset. I helped Tallbark deliver them. She came out first. She was beautiful. She was delicate. She was perfect. Why the heck would Mother do this to me? She knew how special Swankit might be to me, and turned me away. I didn't want to be a medicine cat! I didn't want to bend to her will! Luckily for me, all Swankit wanted was to be a medicine cat apprentice when she was old enough. Then it happened. Mother took all my siblings and her siblings down to the lake. When I got there, I found five limp bodies. Five. Two were stirring, until Mother stomped on their jaws. It was horrible. Swankit would be devastated. And Juniperpaw . . . he was my favorite brother. She ruined it. Ruined their lives, ruined mine, ruined Swankit's. Suddenly a paw moved. Then two. Then three. They were alive! Alive! I ran over there and tackled Mother, long enough for Ivyleaf and Father to take them back to camp for Tallbark to look after them. Alive. Alive, I tell you. Later that day, I was gathering herbs to restock the den. We were low on juniper berries and chervil leaves. A figure pounced on me, grabbed my forepaws, and pinned them behind my back. I was yowling in pain, thrashing and crying. Only after it turned me around that I saw her. The one who let all of this happen, the one who made LightningClan life miserable, the one who let the others take advantage of us. Lavenderstar. She started it. I broke free, and before I knew what I was doing, I kicked her, aiming for the head. She collapsed, and I . . . I stuck my paw in her chest, ripping it through her body, feeling the warm flesh and blood pour out. So gory, yet so satisfying. I lapped at the blood, as it lapped at my paws. What a fulfilling way to get my revenge. Still, that was not enough. I faked her explanation of the death. I faked my tears, faked my sadness, horror, and anger. I faked my grief, faked my compassion, faked it all. I didn't care. Then, she came up to me. Demanded I tell her everything. Demanded I explain. Demanded I pay for my sins. I told her no. No, I would not tell her anything. No, I would not explain. No, I would not pay for my sins. No, I would not listen to her anymore. Never. It was over. They say the death of Riverpelt is a mystery. Her blood smeared all over the banks of the Waterfall, her body jutting out across the gushing torrent. Gaze wide open, lips pressed together in a snarl, face filled with fury. It's not a mystery. Because I did it. And I Regret Nothing. ~*~ "Swankit, from this day on, you will be known as Swanpaw. Beestripe has chosen to take you under his wing as a medicine cat, and though Tallbark has retired, I'm sure he will be a compassionate yet firm teacher," beams Cherrystar. No I won't. I think. I killed two cats. I'm a horrible tom. Swanpaw happily bounds over to me. "Beestripe!" she chirps. "I'm so happy you're my mentor!" "Bah," mutters Pigeonpaw, rolling his eyes. "You're a medicine cat. You're going to do boring work." And before long, the two siblings are fighting. Again. Why do I'' have to be the peacekeeper? To pay for what I did to Lavenderstar and Riverpelt, I guess. But, oh, am I happy to have her all to myself. We're going to have so much fun! I can't wait. Maybe I can, but let's get down to business. "Swanpaw, let's take you on a tour of the territory!" She gets up, her fur gaining a brownish tint. "Yay!" She runs off out of camp. Oh boy. More chasing. Whoopee. "You're going to have your hands full," chuckles Featherpoppy, the new deputy. I feel really guilty now. I killed her sister, Lavenderstar. Oh crap, I'll have to answer to StarClan a million times now. Double whoopee. Now we're at the LightningClan/StreamClan border. "Smell this, and recognize it," I tell her. "Because one day you may have to meet them in battle." We continue to Fivestones, where five giant boulders stick up into the sky. Each boulder represents the different Clans: LightningClan, StreamClan, DarkClan, BreezeClan, and CloudClan. We use this place for Gatherings, but now is not the full moon. "Are we going to the Moon Valley?" asks Swanpaw, bouncing around me as I try to keep her in my sights. "I wanna see it!" "For the half-moon," I remind her. "For the half-moon. Then you can meet the other medicine cats." ~*~ Nightwhisker is already there with her apprentice, Mudpaw. Just as we arrive, Marshweed comes with a new cat, a tortoiseshell. Irispaw comes alone, without her mentor, and old Pebblestep hobbles along the path to the Moon Valley. "Shall we begin?" I ask. "We clearly have two new apprentices. Introduce yours, Marshweed?" He nods, flicking his tail towards the tortoiseshell tom. "This is Specklepaw. And you, Beestripe?" "This is Swanpaw, and before any of you ask, Tallbark is fine." The others murmur happily. Tallbark was well respected, but retired after having an argument with Pebblestep. We travel down the slope into the center, where the moon shines in all its glory, a brilliant white lighting up the valley. "Welcome to the Moon Valley, Specklepaw and Swanpaw." Now we sleep, and I hope I can dream with Swanpaw. Afterwards, we head back, but I can still smell the blood on my paws for some reason. Maybe she can too. It's not important. But if she finds out, I'm doomed. I will be an outcast forever. ~*~ It's a lazy day. Newleaf is here, the prey's good . . . what do we have to lose? I suggest Swanpaw and I take a walk, just she and I, for some fresh air. She agrees, and we stroll lazily between the trees. So much time we have spent together . . . maybe she's developed the same feelings for he as I for her. She's so funny, so pretty, so kind. As we reach the border, the white apprentice turns to me. "Beestripe, I know this is wrong." ''Uh-oh, has she found out my secret? "I know I shouldn't be like this, but . . . I think I may have feelings for you. Feelings that have . . . developed over the past few moons." Her gaze reminds me of the rainbows, shimmering, in and out of view, their vibrant colors dazzling the newleaf sky. What's that word that describes it? Father once taught that to me, but I can't describe it. I know her eyes are red, but right now they are like the newleaf rainbows. Like my mother's, Father told me. Mother used to have these eyes. I chuckle. "Oh, Swanpaw. You'd never guess how I feel about you." I become entranced in in her eyes. Brown. Green. Purple. Blue. Then red. What's next? "You know," I begin, turning serious, "you . . . your . . . your eyes switch from brown to green to blue to purple. They never stop. I was wondering what word describes that?" Swanpaw startles. "Really? I always thought they were red." "No. They're . . ." I struggle to grasp the word. "They're . . ." "Iridescent?" she guesses. And I know that's the correct one. I've heard it before. "Yes, Swanpaw. Iridescent." She smiles. "Beestripe, I could spend forever with you." "I don't know about that," I sigh. "We're medicine cats; it's against our code to take a mate." This doesn't seem to faze her, as she plops herself right next to me, and places her tail against my spine. It makes me feel so tingly, and I know it's wrong, but I feel so satisfying. "We can do anything, Beestripe." Maybe we could. Maybe we can keep this all a secret, and nobody will find out. We can pass this off. We can do anything. All that stands between us and our dreams is only our willingness to leap at an opportunity. And leap at it we do. ~*~ "Oh, you are in some big trouble!" cries out a voice. I wake up to see Foxbrook, a feisty, young she-cat I used to be happy to call sister. Now? She's just obnoxious. I hate her so much now. Maybe I have time to run. Maybe she won't tell Nutstar. Only time will tell. I just run, grabbing Swanpaw by the scruff and just sprinting. I don't think. I don't have time to think. I don't know what I've done, only that I must run to where the loners and rogues border LightningClan. There, I find something. "Swanpaw, you see something?" "Yeah . . . ?" I run up to the thing, making sure I don't accidentally kill myself. "Here! Over here!" The thing—is that a cat? Oh, crap. It's a she-cat, and she's covered in blood! That makes me sick. I nearly retch right there and then, and I'm a medicine cat. Holy sh—this isn't happening. By the time I can pull myself together Swanpaw has arrived, and I ask her, "Swanpaw, do you know her?" "No, but she seems familiar." The heck? How does this she-cat look familiar? I wipe away some of the stick red goop she's drenched in. It seems to be flowing from everywhere to everywhere. What could've done this? And then I smell it. This gross scent, grosser than any of the enemy Clans, just . . . ewwwww. It stinks, it reeks of something much more horrible than a Thunderpath, and that's saying something. She was attacked by a dog. Before I can reply, Swanpaw shushes me. The she-cat begins to faintly murmur something. "Rose . . ." is what I hear. Okay, so that's probably her name. But you never know. "We have to take care of her. We have to take her back," says a determined Swanpaw. We hoist her up, lifting her on our backs. She's super heavy, heavier than I expected. "Crap, she's probably older than me," I grumble. "Let's just get this back to camp." I don't know if she'll survive. Her wounds, at first glance seem to be pretty deep. But I'll do what I can to save her. And maybe she'll be the key to getting out of everything I've gotten myself into. Maybe, just maybe. It's a small hope. It's not yet solidified. But hey, hope is hope. Whatcha gonna do about it? Get over the fact that it's small, it's hope. Won't let that faze me. I'll take it. three "i will have you without armor, juniper, or i will not have you. at. all." - cassidy, duty He needs to work. It's his duty. To serve. To make his kin proud. But sometimes maybe it shouldn't be his everything. He knows he shouldn't have left LightningClan. That's why every full moon he walks to where the Moon Valley is and yowls his apology, to his brother, to his kin, to everyone he betrayed. He knows he might never get an answer. But it's worth a shot. And he knows, in his heart, he has to do this. Because of what he did. Because of all the hearts he broke. And he never meant to. But he did. Now is not the time to complain though. This is what he's doing for his family. He must do it. He must work for the Military. It's his job. It's how he provides for Cassidy. For Nyssa. For Severus. For Trevor, for Joel, for Piper, for all of them. They do their work; he does his. That's how it works. How it's worked for several moons now. Moons and moons on end. He works in exchange for juicy fresh-kill to take back to the Commoners. Those who live beneath the Royals, who were the ruling loners at first. Not anymore. Dogs have taken over, big, strong dogs with slavering jaws and huge paws and nasty drool and roaring snores. Seriously. He's heard them. They're way worse than Nyssa's snores, and she can snore. Maybe he shouldn't act like one of them. The Mercenaries. But he has to. All Commoners are poor and need help. So he helps them. Helps them all. One day, he's in a rush to go to work. Lieutenant Fierce will kill him if he doesn't arrive on time. He bids them farewell, wishes them good luck. He knows he needs to chat. But he can't. He just can't. Why? Because. Because, because, because. Because he doesn't want the responsibility of being a father. Because he doesn't want to own up for what he did. Because he hates having to see other cats that remind him of his family. Because he doesn't want to share his background; where he came from. He runs out the den, down the path to where the Military is. Lieutenant Fierce is waiting there, with only a couple other soldiers. "Good job," he growls. "You're just in time. But remember what I said?" He tries not to roll his eyes as he replies. "Early is on time and on time is late." A group of toms are standing next to each other and whispering. He can hear their conversation. The dark ginger tom asks, "If on time is late, then what's late?" The other, a blue-gray tom, starts laughing so hard he falls over. He strides up to them and prods them both. "Hush! Lieutenant Fierce is speaking!" As if on cue, the massive dog starts yowling out directions. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAA-TTENTION!" he roars. All cats start lining up, erect, tails to their foreheads, eyes straight ahead as they wait for their Lieutenant to give them new orders. "Thank you, Juniper, for quieting those two toms down," he speaks, as he narrows his eyes at the two toms who were goofing off earlier. "As such, I would like to give you the honor of being Second Lieutenant, or Sec. Lieu. You'll have this big ceremony, and a new name. Although we are fighters, we are not heartless. We know this is a difficult decision. So you may have a quarter-moon to decide. As for you two," he glares at the two toms. "What's your name?" he roars at the dark ginger. "Sparky," whimpers the terrified tom. I know him! He's barely seven moons old! What's he doing here? Oh, I bet he's so scared right now. When the Lieutenant looms over the second tom, he cries, "I'm Tom! I'm Tom!" "Tom?" the big dog asks, confused. "You're named . . . Tom?" The blue-gray tom nods. "Short for Thomas. Don't ask me what it means, I don't know. Just, please . . . don't hurt my brother." Oh no! These two are barely kits! I don't get it. Stunned, he stammers to Fierce, "I-I need to use the dirtplace, be right back." And he runs, full speed, to his den, in a row of dens, along a dirt row. "Cass! Cass!" No reply. "Cass!" he screams. Where is she? She's supposed to be here. And the others . . . where have the others gone? Nyssa? Trevor? Severus? Joel? Piper? Where are they? "Cass!" he screams once more. Then a bigger shape bowls him over. Uh oh. He looks up at the shape. It's Tank, a bulky she-cat that seems bigger than the monsters themselves. "T-Tank," he stammers. "W-What are you doing here?" This is his home. Commoners aren't allowed in other dens unless given permission by the owner. "Didn' ya hear?" sneers Tank. Her voice is heavily accented with the voice of the newcomers, who supposedly came from the south. "Thiz iz ma houz now and ya betta be outta her' ba the 'trike o' noon." No. That's not possible. He nods and runs out, searching for his mate, searching for his family. He finds them huddled in a shareden, one where each family/inhabitant was crammed into a tiny den big enough for the bare minimum. "W-What are you doing here?" He doesn't understand why Tank has kicked his family out into this excuse of a shareden. Cass steps forward, her eyes glinting dangerously. "You don't seem to have enough time for us," she whispers. "So we don't need time for you. We'll be busy getting this place in order. Or you could move in with Tank. You seem to love the walls of that den, but not us. No! You don't understand! thinks the tom anxiously. "What do you mean?" he growls. "There's a reason all of this is happening, and you just don't understand it. You never did. His mate lets out a high pitched laugh and thrusts her face in front of him, her eyes inches away from his, and still he does not flinch. "No, Juniper. You just don't want to see us. You love your work as a Mercenary too much to even care for us. You don't understand love, and you're too ashamed to be seen as the head of a Commoner family. Why don't you live with Tank? She's got a high standing? Or heck, move in with the Floras, they have a super high standing. Just don't get near me or my family again." With that, she retreats and squishes herself into the shareden. Juniper's heart is broken. He knows almost every single word to come from Cass's mouth is most certainly true, but he doesn't know what to do about it. I better get back. Fierce will be looking for me. He runs, back to where he's supposed to be. ~*~ He sneaks out through the dirtplace tunnel, so as not to alert the guards. Now he sleeps in the barracks, as Tank turned him down and he was banned from the sharedens. So much for that idea, he angrily thinks. As his paws thrum away on the dirt road, he searches for someone, anyone, from his family who's also going to the dirtplace. Turns out it's his lucky day; Joel and Piper are launching themselves through their tunnel to their dirtplace. "Psst," he calls out to them. "When you're done, over here." Shrugging, the cats make dirt, and hurry over to their father. "Dad, what are you doing here? Mom will rip out your fur if she sees you!" whispers Piper. "That's if he's lucky," Joel adds. Juniper is tempted to claw their fur off, but he restrains himself, leading them into a shallow part of the forest. "I want to get our den back, and reunite with your mother. But I don't know what to do. See if you can get the whole family to work on it without letting Mom know. Then report to me every quarter moon so I know what I should do to reunite our family. Got it?" His two ten-moon old kits nod, their identical amber eyes staring up at him. "Good," he says, smiling. "I love you. Now go." They run into the distance as he runs back to his camp. tbc four "you're nothing but a con. a cheat. you lied to me. don't come here again. ever." - yewheart, the pretty two-faced fox I thought she could be my everything. Yet she fooled us all and took away my innocence. I used to be a carefree tom with nothing in the world to lose. Maybe a few somethings, but I always had everything in the world I wanted. And then there was Foxpaw. She was the daughter of a rogue we'd chased off; forgot the mother's name. Lavenderstar took her in, but several moons of her life were excruciating crap. Riverpelt felt like all of us had to be apprentices at the same time, and Lavenderstar agreed. What a— Yeah, no, I won't say it. I'm gonna try to keep it PG here. But seriously, can you blame me? I used to be a carefree tom with nothing in the world to lose. Now I'm a ravaging monster, the terror of Clan and non-Clan cats alike. Maybe it was all me. Maybe it wasn't. But there was something that caused me to be this way. Because I used to be a carefree tom . . . ~*~ Rain pours down, steadily dripping, down, down, down. A shadowed figure huddles over a tiny, golden brown she-kit. She stalks forward, trying not to make a sound. There she is, she thinks to herself. A dream come true. Closer, and closer, and closer. If she can catch Celandine, it will be the greatest achievement of her life. Maybe now Tansyheart will let her sister make her a warrior. "Featherpaw!" growls her mentor. The cream tom strides towards her. "I thought I told you to be hunting!" Then he sees it. The shadowy figure, bent, shaking, weak. Featherpaw knows this will be the greatest day of her life. If she can catch Celandine. If she can catch Celandine. That's all that matters. If she can catch Celandine. She glides over the forest floor, light as a feather. Her movement is as graceful as a swan's, and nobody can notice her. Except for the kit. The she-kit squeals, and Featherpaw knows this has to be it. Her time has come. And She Leaps. She's done it. She's laid her claws on the supposed "terror" of the Clans. A rogue mother who just wanted food for her babies. But the deed is done. Celandine will never see the light of day again. Grief sweeps over the young tortoiseshell. What has she done? She's robbed a tiny, helpless kit of her mother. So she picks up the minuscule bundle of fur, walking back to her mentor. "I did it," she whispers. "I killed a mother. I killed this kit's mother." Maybe that's what convinces Tansyheart to persuade Lavenderstar. But the quick-tempered, yet weak-willed leader is not willing. "It's a rogue. You think we take in any stray?" the pinkish-white she-cat asks. Featherpaw looked defiantly back. "It's a kit. The warrior code says we must help a kit no matter what its background." "No. We are not keeping this. Take the piece of crap away." Featherpaw knows she must act. But the last her paws moved, it was disastrous. Maybe she doesn't need to. Though without action could be very devastating if she doesn't move. She doesn't have to—Thunderpool does it for her. It is a very long tussle, and a heartbreaking one. Thunderpool is laid to rest with her ancestors, and Lavenderstar's fourth life has gone to waste. ~*~ "Yewkit! Come outside and play!" The voice alone wakes him up. He knows who it is: Foxkit, the energetic, golden-brown adopted she-kit who's mother was the feared Celandine. The center of nursery nightmares. Before, all the queens would warn their kits: "Beware of Celandine. If she catches you unaware, at night, outside camp, she will come and perform her deed." Everybody avoids her. Except for Yewkit. Those day-night eyes that scare away everyone attracts him. Her deeper voice, unusual height, and supernatural strength fascinate him, instead of intimidating him. And everyone in the five Clans knows they are a thing. They can never be separated. "Look. It's the Inseparable." "Never seen one since Nightpool and Larkthorn." "Such a sweet tom with such a sketchy she-kit? Impossible." He's heard the whispers. The taunts. The lies, the rumors, the gossip. He's heard it all by now. At such an early age. But he's okay with it. It never gets to him. Never messes him up. He can't hear it. And he won't. "Yewkit!" Foxkit bowls him over. Despite her lean, tall body and broad shoulders, she is surprisingly gentle and lets him up. "Come on, let's go see the elders! Come on, come on!" Willowtail is already there, her fluffy tail waving cheerfully, her legs outstretched. Beside her is grumpy old Pinefall, who retired early because of severe pain. And then there's Flowerfoot, with Thunderheart next to her. Yewkit loves hearing all of their stories, because it either reflects his, or it is so horrific, humorous, or saddening that he actually loves his own life. Maybe, just maybe, his life will start to look up. --- "And you will be Yewpaw. Your mentor will be Featherpoppy. I know she is able to provide you with all the skills necessary to become a full warrior." Lavenderstar smiles. Her grin is a bit unsettling, is she hiding something? Featherpoppy touches noses with him. He knows she is a newly made warrior—barely two moons old. Yewpaw knows that she is able to train him though. He just knows. Waving her tail excitedly, she asks, "You want a tour of our territory?" "Yeah!" Yewpaw waves his tail, all over the place. Featherpoppy giggles and calls her best friend, Riverleap, who is training Foxpaw, over. He knows the silver tabby tom is reluctant to let his apprentice near the black tom, and Yewpaw can see the frustration in Featherpoppy's eyes. And . . . what is in young Foxpaw's eyes? Contempt? Revenge? Fascination? He cannot tell. Featherpoppy leads them out of camp, and the first thing she takes them to are five big boulders sticking straight out of the ground. "What's this?" asks Beepaw, who has just caught up with them, along with Tallbark. Riverleap smiles. "This is Fivestones, the place where we meet for Gathering. During a Gathering, no fighting must take place, or else StarClan becomes angry. When they do, they'll cover the moon, and the Gathering is halted." Foxpaw rolls her eyes. and replies, "We don't have to listen to StarClan. They're just a frickin' burden. Like half the cats in this Clan." Yewpaw cringes as his friend continues to rant on and on about StarClan. "What a load of crap. Everyone knows they're plain made up. Screw whatever you guys think. You idiots think you know everything. Like, what kind of StarClan lets you guys suffer? That's messed up." Riverleap and Featherpoppy look at each other. One is clearly trying not to laugh, the other is clearly trying not to yell. Both agree on giving the russet she-cat a stern glare and giving a quick lecture about her words. She responds with an eye roll and a snarky reply. "Whatever. They don't even have any true power." Riverleap and Featherpoppy sigh and continue on to the other borders, to let them get a whiff of other Clans' scents. As they trek away from the small stream that divides them from StreamClan and towards the moor of BreezeClan, Foxpaw complains of the long walk, while Beepaw gets distracted because of something. Yewpaw however, keeps his eyes in front of him and on his mentors, not bothering to say anything or look anywhere else. They take him to the BreezeClan border, where immediately Yewpaw jumps back at the disgusting stench. "Bleh!" he growls. "What the hell?" Foxpaw is also wrinkling her nose in disgust, though clearly not expressing it. Riverleap frowns. "I thought you'd be more repulsed by StreamClan scent." He pauses. "Has BreezeClan been eating fish?" Featherpoppy shrugs. "Remember when they started eating toads? Vixenstar had to order her Clan to stay away from Gatherings until their scent returned to normal." The silver tabby shudders. "Don't remind me." Beepaw turns to his mentor. "Is it true?" Tallbark doesn't answer and instead scurries off, gagging from the StarClan-awful stench that is coming from the border. Yewpaw doesn't hesitate to hightail it out of there either. Once they're back at Fivestones, he gasps and points toward the NightClan border. "Can . . . we . . . not . . . go . . . there . . . then?" His mentor shrugs. "Deal." As they trudge off back to camp, he mutters under his breath, "I hope whoever started that BreezeClan trend has thorns in their nest." tbc five "and what about them? did you forget? or are you just that coldhearted?" - diana, cold We control the weather, the fortunes, the events on our will. Sometimes our will alone isn't the best, though. Up top in Golden, we lounge. Who are we? We are the fourteen cats designated to rule the world. We are the head honchos of the whole enchilada. (Don't ask us what that is. We are just cats. Immortal, all powerful cats, yes, but still cats.) My name? I am Diana, protector of the wild, and all the cats that live in it. I provide food for the hungry, shelter for the needy, and generosity for the kind. Don't ask me to provide water though. That's Neptune's job, and he's the patron tom of StreamClan. Each Clan has one. LightningClan and CloudClan have fought over whether Jupiter can be their patron tom for moons. Yeesh. But they agree on one thing about patron she-cats. We do not need them. And that is what makes me so mad. There is every reason for me to be mad. I am the she-cat of the wild. I am the embodiment of a feral cat. I deserve to be the patron she-cat for any one of the Clans. Why shouldn't I? Toms. They always think they are better, and then they do things and screw up horribly. It's almost comical . . . but it's not. There is one tom one I do deeply care about. His name is Apollo, and he's my twin. Except for his gender, his personality, and his fur color, we're totally alike. We're the best at hunting in Golden. We're sleek, lean, yet strong. Our body types are so identical that our mother, Latona jokes if any one of us was a different pelt color, nobody would be able to distinguish us. Even our eye colors are the same: bright gold. Apollo says that mine have a tint of blue to them, but I don't believe him. You can find me most often near the Seeing Pool, where we watch the five Clans from above. That StarClan myth you heard about them controlling everything? Hahahaha nope. It's usually me who controls these things. I can do anything in the wild, though sometimes I come into conflict with Ceres. She is so stubborn. In the Seeing Pool, a young she-cat stumbles onto the grass, onto LightningClan territory. She is drenched in blood, and . . . ouch, several marks cover her. These are no ordinary marks—these are piercings made by a fighter beast, a dog. If she is to survive one must find her and take care of her. So I devise a plan. I see this young tom, a medicine cat, who devotes their life to healing and StarClan, and may never take a mate. It is risky, but I plant the idea that he should wander over to where the she-cat is. I'm sure this'll work. Of course, LightningClan is known for being overprotective of their territory, and are highly suspicious. They are nothing like the previous Clan, ThunderClan, who had Zeus as their patron tom. Back then Hera was patron she-cat of SkyClan, and Poseidon . . . etc etc. You get the idea. Now the she-cat is being carried back to camp. I don't know what to expect. tbc six "don't give up hope. he will not win" - meredith, forever shackled seven "maybe it will, maybe it won't. you'll have to see." - malinois, fire-falls eight "dee-licious. got any more mice?" - ravenpaw, eloquence I've never known thrills. The best I've known is climbing trees. I can break my own monotony though. But at a price . . . Life in the Clans is boring. So boring. In fact, it's so boring that I ran away. Now the lot of you are thinking, who in the name of StarClan am I? Well, I am Raven. Here's how life in the Clans works: you wake up, you train/patrol/hunt. Then you eat. Then you hear a couple of news from the leader, if there is any. I hate that. What kind of a life is that, I ask you? That's why I escaped, to run away from the boring monotony of the Clans, doing the same things over and over again. So. Freaking. Tedious. I hate it. I hate it all. I want nothing to do with it. Nothing. The day I ran away, I made sure to be quiet and discreet. I planned it with Auburn, this tom who was forced to be a medicine cat apprentice for our ancient medicine cat, Pebblestep. Poor old Auburn, destined to forever heal cats in this cult of dullness. Until I told him the idea. The idea that we could run away, make ourselves a new life. The idea that we could be whatever we wanted to be. And that we could be free, introduce color, and forever escape the clutches of our dreaded CloudClan. "We can do anything we want to," I whispered in his ear. Then he pulled me closer and replied, "And we can dream dreams no one's ever dreamed of." Auburn told his mentor he was going out to collect herbs, and Pebblestep ordered him to take a warrior with him, like always. The tom groaned and complained like any other time, so as not to raise suspicion. And then he sneaked some bay leaves out, already woven into a structure in which we could hold fresh-kill. As for water—pfft, we can always steal from StreamClan. We stayed out, hiding in treetops, racing each other across the branches, daring each other to climb higher and higher. Us two, we were CloudClan cats. We did this all the time. Whenever cats came close, we dared not breathe. One step, one slight movement, and it would be all over. Repeated this over and over until the Twolegplace came close, where we might have a chance. "This is it," Auburn gasped. "This is our future." And so he leaped. Down the tree, and across the Thunderpath. He was so excited that he did not hear the oncoming roar, and missed the monster by a hair. I dared not cross until I checked, and even then I skittered across, eyes darting all over to see if a monster was coming. We padded along the Twoleg nests until we came to this clearing, with dens lined up across the side. "We could live here," I suggested. Auburn, however, had a different opinion of this place. His green eyes widened and he scrabbled, claws scratching away in the dirt. "We can't," he whispered. "We just can't." The brown tom beckoned me to follow him, paws thrumming away on the ground, running with such energy that I could barely keep up. Maybe fear drove him, maybe excitement. Whatever the case, he sped down the road, not paying attention to anything whatsoever until we reached an exquisite yet unoccupied den. "I have to hope they'll welcome me back," he muttered under his breath, pacing the outside of the entrance. I tipped my head and stared at him blankly. "What the hell are you talking about?" Auburn shook his head and waited, for what seemed like two moons before a fiery she-cat pads out, and let out a gasp. "Ember, you've come back!" she squealed, swishing her tail back and forth. Her voice had some sort of tilt, or accent. I didn't know how to place it. "Friends, come look! Our darling Ember has come back to us!" What sort of cat talks like that? I thought to myself. Ah, whatever. Maybe they're old fashioned. Four more cats peered out from behind bushes. Two were the exact same shade of russet, while another was pale ginger. Yet another was deep brown. "Why, Ember, you've grown!" purred the astonished russet tom. "Last time I saw you you were only a wee one." I grew more and more confused by the minute. "Who are you?" I asked. "And how do you know Auburn?" ~*~ I don't know what happened. The she-cat who had first greeted us frowned and told me, "Come inside. We have much to discuss." Confused, I did as I was told. She sat down, then sprang up again. "Silly me. I forgot to introduce ourselves. I am Fiery, this chap here is Candlelight," she said, pointing at the pale ginger cat, "and these two lovely toms are Burning and Blazing." The deep brown tom cleared his throat, and Fiery giggled. "Truly, I am sorry. That tom over there is Firewood!" She sat down and suddenly her face became very serious. Her ears pricked as she whispered something in Burning's ear. He scampered to the entrance of the den and tapped the wall a few times. A great stone rose out of the ground and covered the hole, casting us into complete darkness. "Hang on," muttered Firewood as he groped for something, and suddenly bright lights came into existence. "Wow," I breathed. "This is very pretty. Did you do this yourselves?" Fiery pricked her ears before turning to me. "Candlelight, will you please . . ." She dropped her voice before I could hear more. She nodded and ran off before coming back. Then the ginger she-cat turned back to us. "Hell no. It was my mother, a hardworking she-cat named Thai who did this. Sure, her sister helped her, but most of this was pure Thai." She sighed. "Maybe Firewood can explain this whole fiasco to you. I don't understand the half of it." The brown tom straightened up. "All right, so this here is the place where the Nobles live, just underneath the Royals. The Royals are actually the Nobles who are the current ruling family, and ruling is hereditary. At any time can another Noble Family overthrow the Ruling Family. The current Ruling Family is are the Fleurs, which, I guess you don't know this, but "fleur" means "flower." I don't know how I know that. The Fleurs have been ruling for the past . . . I don't know . . . seven hundred moons?" "Nobody remembers who came before them, but some cats speculate it was the Étoiles, or the Stars," added Burning. Or was it Blazing? I found it hard to distinguish between the two. "We are the Les Feux, or the Fires." tbc nine "i honestly find the darkness my friend. when you spend so long trapped in the darkess . . . you find that it stares back. begins to. and it acts like a friend." - rose, dark heart ten "she needs to learn what life is. because she's so naive. maybe you shouldn't help her. maybe." - magnolia, a thousand steps eleven "you sure i can handle this? because even though i'm the speediest cat in golden, i'm not invincible" - mercury, messenger twelve "swantail. listen to me. you could rattle the stars. you could tame the sun. you could do anything, if only you dared." - foxbrook, daredevil Devils have a way of coming back. Maybe this is their revenge. ~*~ A ginger threat terrorizes the Clans. Queens warn kits to stay out of her hands. "Dare not slip out at night, Or you'll meet that nasty fright." She strikes at exact moonhigh, Where foolish cats find her and die. There is no escape from her jaws, And no escape from her wild laws. "Watch for Foxbrook," the warriors say. "Or you may meet your doom someday." Terror of the five Clans, master of all. None have survived, beckoned by her call. ~*~ olivepelt i knew swantail. she was my oldest friend. thinking about her just makes it hurt even more. i tell you this story so everyone can hear it. i promised myself that i would keep these secrets till my dying breath. but i'm dead. gone forever. so i guess you can hear them. not the whole thing though. bits and pieces. maybe you'll be smart enough to decipher it. this story starts at the beginning, literally at the beginning. we're siblings, shouldn't be too hard to figure it out. and of course riverpelt. stupid riverpelt. i wish she never existed. because of her i now have severe coughing anytime i try to exert myself while exercising. wish she just poofed herself out of this damn world. so we didn't have to deal with her. stupid world. they took me away from her when i was just seven moons old. they were mean, loud, and scary. and i had to give them everything i knew on the five clans. fat chance, i told them, and in the night, i tried to escape. i was caught though, and before i knew it, tortured beyond pain so i could give them the secrets. but no. i waited and waited until this beautiful she-cat came in, handled in disgusting ways. i'm trying to keep it pg here, but they made it difficult. and then they sentenced her to death by a long list of torturing that i can't repeat. it included fire, flogging, stoning, dunking repeatedly, strangling, extreme fighting, mangling, and— okay, i can't continue. but she was mauled beyond repair. i can't even describe her without mentioning scars and blood. i just can't. and i am trying to keep it pg. so they were occupied, and i slipped out without a moment to spare. ran as fast as i could until i tripped and fell into a stream. might've drowned, but this kind tom pulled me out and introduced me to stonestar, streamclan's leader. and he told me that i shouldn't have been wandering around here. foxbrook threatens the survival of the clans. i asked who he was, and they replied that she was the terror of the clans, and had killed many. i could take her on, i suppose. had to fight many times just to get out. no, he told me. you're a kit. you shouldn't and will not take her on. whatever, i told him. i'm not some weakling. i know creatures like her. shouldn't be too difficult. but noooooo i had to stay and become an apprentice. tbc thirteen "she walked the moon. but she would not, could not, and never will tame the wind" - jessie, wind-walker fourteen "i can't relate, carl. no one was my master—but i might be the master of everything, if i wished. if i dared" - izzy, master